


Partners

by ArianneMaya



Series: Aftermath [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Frottage, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:07:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1646399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianneMaya/pseuds/ArianneMaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>That night, Sam expects to have to talk Steve down from whatever guilt-trip he'll have gotten himself into after their almost encounter with Barnes.<br/>When that doesn't happen, when they're ready for bed and Steve still looks to be as good as he can these days, Sam's own demons come out to play.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Partners

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't what I was expecting to write next, but this is what happens when people talk shit about characters/pairings I love. I regret nothing :D  
> Many thanks to Eeyore9990 for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

“Come on, Steve.” There's no one to hear Sam's words. He's alone on the roof of the HYDRA base they were led to. The place is about to blow up around them. They have a couple of minutes left, if they're lucky. If not... 

Sam refuses to think about the possibility that he might have to fly out alone, but the idea is right there at the edge of his mind, so close that he almost can't avoid it. 

Steve knows about the explosion. They're the ones who set it up. The plan was that, if the trail Barnes left got them to an HYDRA base, they would see if there was anyone to save then blow the place up. If the trail led them to Barnes himself, they could handle him. Or at least Steve believes so, and if Sam still has his doubts, he knows better than to say anything. Steve needs what little bit of hope he has left. 

Sam was expecting the bad guys crawling all over the place, all more than ready to die to protect the secrets the base held. He was expecting the moment when his wings gave him no advantage whatsoever. It didn't worry him; he'd learned to fight long before he'd learned to fly. 

What he wasn't expecting was the sniper that took out the guy who was intent on killing Sam when said guy had a knife an inch from Sam's gut. Because that sniper could only be Barnes himself. 

So of course, when they'd finally cleared the place and set the explosives, Steve had to go back and try to find him. And that's how Sam finds himself on the roof, alone. Right before he took off, Steve swore that he'd make it on time. 

But Sam's aware that, if there's the smallest chance of finding Barnes and saving him – no matter what saving him might include – Steve will take it, without a care in the world about the fact that the building is about to collapse around him. 

Sam's waiting yet he's half-expecting Steve not to make it and is doing his best to ignore the fact that he's scared out of his mind. 

He's well aware that some things are worth all the risks you have to take to make them happen, but there's nothing Sam hates more than feeling like he can do nothing except watch from the sidelines. Whenever that happens, it brings him right back to the day of Riley's death, to that impression that he was up in the sky just to watch. 

Riley and he took their fair share of risks, back in the day, but they always did so _together_. The rule not to take any stupid risk on their own was drilled into them very early on. Well, the actual rule was not to do stupid shit, period, but he and Riley came up with their own version of it when they realized that there were a lot of things that weren't stupid risks if your partner knew you inside and out so well that it felt like they knew what you were thinking at all times. 

And they'd gotten there, to the point where it sometimes felt like they were two bodies but one brain, thinking alike and always knowing where the other would be. 

He isn't hoping to get that back – no one could ever take Riley's place, not even Steve – but this, waiting in the dark, having no idea if he'll have to fly out alone, and aware that he has to be ready to do exactly that if necessary, is killing him. 

Steve finally climbs his way up to the roof just as Sam is getting ready to fly out on his own. He doesn't need to see the defeated slump of Steve's shoulders or to hear Steve's soft, “He's gone,” to know that by the time Steve got to Barnes' hiding spot, there was no one to find. Otherwise, Steve wouldn't be here, or at least, not alone. 

Sam gives a sharp nod before grabbing onto Steve. Having to fly out with somebody's weight in his arms is so similar to some of his old rescue missions that he doesn't need to think about what he's doing. His body already knows the way, years of muscle memory taking over without any effort. 

Maybe an hour later, Sam touches down next to the rented house where they're staying – to Stark's insistence. They didn't fight him too hard on that, because there are things that aren't that worth fighting for, not against Stark's bull-headedness. Considering that afterward _home_ will most likely become a string of lousy motels, it wasn't that hard to accept. 

He barely has a second to catch his breath before Steve has him backed up against a wall, fighting with Sam's shirt. 

“Steve, what the...” Sam trails off when he realizes that Steve is pulling at his shirt where it's soaked with blood. With one hand, he stops both of Steve's before lifting the bottom of his shirt to show Steve the unmarred skin underneath. “The blood is the other guy's, not mine. I'll have some nasty bruises tomorrow, but that's it. Barnes got him before he could do too much damage.” 

The tension seeps out of Steve at the same time as the air leaves his lungs, so fast it looks like he's deflating, and Sam expects him to get sidetracked by the fact that Barnes saved Sam's life. Instead, Steve whispers, “God, I was so sure he got you” before kissing Sam, hard and fast and demanding. 

It takes Sam a second to catch up to what's happening, to kiss back, surging up into Steve's mouth, his hands finding Steve's hips to pull him closer. 

All of Sam's blood is redirected to his cock when Steve pushes a leg between Sam's, giving just the right amount of pressure until Sam is all but riding Steve's thigh and he needs to break the kiss to catch his breath. 

“For the record,” Steve says as Sam rests his head against the house wall – they're lucky that the place doesn't have any close neighbors. “I'm still very much messed up. That's not going to change any time soon. But this isn't me trying to forget, this is a 'thank fuck we made it out alive'. You good with that?”

With a hand on the back of Steve's neck, Sam makes him bend his head to devour his mouth with hungry kisses. He's so high on adrenaline and lust that even if he wanted to stop, he's not sure that he could. “Yeah. I'm very good with that.”

Steve's smile is so full of heat that Sam could swear he feels it down to his bones. Within a second, they're kissing again, their mouth finding each other's perfectly, both giving and taking at the same time. They rut against each other, the hard muscle of Steve's thigh providing the perfect counterpoint to the slow grind of Sam's cock against him. 

It's over too fast, Sam's orgasm slamming into him before he has the time to really enjoy everything. Steve swallows his groans with kisses as he coats the inside of his pants with come, before he reverses their positions and pushes Steve up against the wall. 

His hand finds Steve's cock through his pants, a slow, even pressure that Steve thrusts into with an abandon Sam hasn't seen in him before. He watches Steve's eyes roll in his head with pleasure, the easy way he doesn't really try to get more pressure than what Sam's giving him, and he can't help his soft whisper of, “Come on, Steve. Come for me.” 

Steve does exactly that, fast enough that Sam's own cock makes a valiant effort to harden again, fast enough to make him really curious as to what just happened. Now isn't the time to ask, though. 

Instead, he hauls Steve inside and gets him into the shower. 

***

That night, he expects to have to talk Steve down from whatever guilt-trip he'll have gotten himself into after their almost encounter with Barnes. 

When that doesn't happen, when they're ready for bed and Steve still looks to be as good as he can these days, Sam's own demons come out to play. 

Sam doesn't get nightmares. He always says that his mind doesn't need them to torture him; sometimes, at night, all he has to do is close his eyes, and Riley's death replays itself behind his closed eyelids, in technicolor and with many details that Sam knows are just an invention of his mind. In reality, it all happened so fast that he almost didn't see anything. One second, Riley was talking shit in Sam's comm. The next, he screamed, an inhuman sound that resonated in Sam's head for days afterward – even though Sam was told that he probably imagined the scream, as well – and Riley was wiped out of the sky. 

When he came home, Sam spent almost a year on sleeping pills. Even now, he doesn't sleep so well. That's why it's easy for him to spend part of the night awake, talking Steve down from his nightmares. He probably wouldn't have slept anyway. And at least, like this, he feels useful, instead of being crushed under the weight of his own guilt. He's fully aware that there's nothing he could have done, but the feeling of helplessness that accompanies that knowledge is almost worse. 

He knows it's impossible for him to get over this. It's just something that he had to learn to live with. And he figured out a way, in big part by helping others fight their own demons. Most of the time, he's well-adjusted and the memories he still has of Riley don't feel like his own personal hell.

But some nights, there's no avoiding the dark thoughts playing round and round in his mind, the images that hurt him to the core even though he knows they aren't real. Like today, when waiting for Steve while being fully aware that he might have to fly out on his own, and the explosion that followed mere seconds after they took off, felt like the worst time of his life coming back to haunt him.

So he does as he always did: he stares into the empty night, aware that sleep won't come to him, and tries his best to keep himself together. 

Until he feels Steve roll over behind him and mold himself to Sam's body as he asks, with all the gentleness in the world, “You okay, Sam?” 

He's still tense all over, and there's no possibility of hiding it, not with Steve so close to him. Still, he says, “I'm good.” 

His voice almost breaks on the words and he feels more than he hears Steve's sigh. 

“Liar,” Steve says, soft enough that the accusation doesn't sting. “Come here.” 

Without another word, Sam goes easily, letting Steve rearrange them until Steve's sitting with his back to the wall and Sam in the vee of his legs. Steve wraps his arms around Sam's waist, keeping Sam's back against his front, with barely a breath of space between them. 

For long, long minutes, Steve doesn't say anything. Slowly, he moves his hands over Sam's body. There's nothing sexual about the touch; it's more of a reminder that, whatever is going wrong, they're in this _together_. 

It's only when some of the tension seeps out of Sam's shoulders that Steve asks, “What's going on?”

Sam tries, but there's no way to explain that won't make things hurt more. So he only says, “Memories.” And then, when Steve doesn't add anything and it becomes clear that he won't get away without giving a little more, “Of the bad kind.” 

Steve brushes a soft, soft kiss on the side of Sam's head. “Tell me about him?”

The suggestion makes Sam tense all over before he realizes what Steve said. That what he wants is to hear about Riley, _alive_. Not about the things that keep Sam awake at night. 

“Riley was like my brother. We met in boot camp, but he was the last person I thought I would become friends with...”

Funny thing is, once Sam starts talking, it's like he can't stop. Late into the night, he tells Steve about the friendship that took him by surprise. About Riley, whose southern accent could get as thick as molasses when he wasn't actively trying to suppress it. About the way they always stood up for each other, always, even though life could have been so much easier for Riley if he hadn't, because the people who were intent on making things hard for Sam also usually assumed that Riley would be on their side, not on Sam's. Riley could have just gone with it, but he never did. 

He tells Steve about learning to fly with Riley, all the steps they had to take before they were finally allowed into the sky. About the adrenaline high, the feeling of being invincible, like nothing could ever bring them down as long as they flew side by side. 

By the time Sam's all out of words, tiredness has settled into his bones and he's almost lax in Steve's arms. “I think I could sleep, now.” 

“I'm glad to hear it.” Steve brushes another kiss against Sam's neck. “Next time, tell me when the ghosts are getting too loud for you. Don't try and fight them alone.” 

“It doesn't usually get that bad.” Sam shrugs. “And you have your own stuff to deal with. I don't want to add to that.” 

Steve remains silent for a long moment that feels like a hesitation. “Look at me, please?”

It's the _please_ that makes Sam stop and pay attention, that has him turning around in Steve's arms and straddling his lap so he can look at him in the eyes. 

Steve smiles, an amused light in his eyes. “Are you trying to distract me?” 

Sam inches closer and kisses him, long and soft and sweet, the kind of kiss designed to make Steve melt. “Maybe. Is it working?” 

Shaking his head, Steve still admits, “A little.”

“Damn, I'm losing my touch.” Sam's words disappear in a groan when Steve's hands find his hips and pull him down, bringing their cocks into contact through their pajama pants and making him feel how hard Steve is. 

“I wouldn't say that. But...” 

Before Steve can continue, Sam raises himself on his knees, slips a hand in Steve's pants and wraps his fingers around Steve's cock. “You were saying?” 

Steve lets his head fall back against the wall, sucking in a breath as Sam jerks him off. “God, Sam...”

“If I knew it was that easy to make you speechless, I'd have tried that a long time ago.” His own cock hardens at the sight of Steve letting go that easily. Desire burns through him until nothing else exists. 

“Fuck you,” Steve says, thrusting into the tight grip of Sam's fist. 

Sam can't hold back a smirk. “Tempting. Too bad we don't have any supplies.” 

Steve's eyes go wide before he pulls Sam down with a hand on the back of his neck, kissing him with a desperation that makes Sam want so much more of everything. 

“ _Oh_. Oh, fuck, you're such a tease.” 

“It's a promise, not a tease.” As he says that, Sam releases the grip he has on Steve's cock, smiling at the whimper that's torn out of Steve's mouth. “Shh. I won't leave you hanging. But I'm not making you come in your pants again.”

“That was hot.” Steve tries to reach for Sam. 

With one finger pointed at Steve in warning, Sam slowly makes his way down Steve's body. He feels a way too familiar thrill when he notices the way Steve goes with it, his hands resting at his side, even though Sam can see the little twitch that says he's tempted to reach out again. “It was,” he agrees. “But since we have a bed and all the time we want,” he pulls on Steve pajama pants, taking them off him, “skin on skin is a lot better. Don't you agree?” 

Before Steve can reply, Sam bends his head and licks Steve's cock from root to tip. When he glances at Steve, the wrecked look on Steve's face makes him want to keep going for much, much longer, to tease and use everything he knows to drive Steve right out of his mind. “You want more?” 

“Don't you dare stop now!” Steve just about growls. 

Sam feels it down to his core, heating up every part of him. “I wouldn't dream of it.” And he bends his head again, licking and sucking, taking Steve into his mouth and savoring the taste, the feel of him, all silky smooth skin. 

He keeps teasing, long licks from root to tip and around the head of Steve's cock, never keeping Steve's cock in his mouth long enough for it to feel really good. He's intent on giving Steve nothing more than a taste, a hint of what it could be. 

“Stop teasing, please, Sam.” And this, right here, is exactly what Sam was waiting for. When Steve can't help but ask, beg for more, when Sam can feel the almost thrust of Steve's hips, aborted before it really happens, like Steve isn't sure if he's _allowed_. It's both a confirmation and a surprise and it hits Sam a lot harder than he was expecting. 

So much so that, when he finally starts sucking for real, when he takes Steve deep into his mouth and wraps his hand to jack him off at the same time, he can't help but bring a hand to his own cock. The taste of Steve's cock, his whimpers and groans, how sensitive he obviously is, how responsive, is almost too much for Sam and he needs something, anything, to ease the desire that takes hold of his whole being. 

Before he can get either of them any farther, Steve moves and pulls Sam off, with a curse when it's obviously more complicated than he was expecting because he can't get a good grip on Sam's head. 

Once Sam's attention is on him, Steve says, “No touching yourself. This isn't ending before I get your dick in my mouth. Clear?” 

Sam's left speechless. The back and forth between them, the way they both keep giving and taking and exchanging roles, is leaving him dizzy from the kind of lust he hasn't felt in a very, very long time. 

Giving a small nod, Sam keeps his hands off himself when he takes Steve's cock back into his mouth, bringing a hand to Steve's hip to encourage him when he feels another one of those barely there thrusts. As hot as it is to know that Steve's straining to hold himself back, it's even better to feel him let go, even if he's still careful, enough that Sam's jaw aches and his eyes water from too much too soon. 

And when he feels Steve tighten in his mouth, he pulls him closer until he can take the whole length of Steve's cock deep in his throat and swallow around him, once, twice, his own cock pulsing when Steve comes with a shout, making him feel like he could almost come just like this, just from feeling Steve, watching him. 

Gently, he licks Steve clean until Steve pushes him away. His smile widens when Steve almost collapses against the bed, like his bones have turned to jelly. “Just... give me a second to catch my breath, and I'll return the favor.”

Sam climbs his way back up Steve body. “I'm not in a hurry. So if you need pointers or anything—”

Steve huffs, indignant. “I thought you got that I'm not exactly a blushing virgin?” 

Shrugging, Sam answers, “Dunno. You have the blushing part down pretty good.” 

“Smart-ass.” Within a second, Steve has Sam on his back on the bed, and is pulling off his pants. “Now, shut up and enjoy the ride.” 

“For that, you'll need to actually do some... Oh, _fuck_.” Sam thumps his head against the pillow as Steve surrounds him in tight, wet heat. Where Sam was teasing, Steve goes for it with everything he has, like he's trying to suck Sam's brain out through his dick. 

And it's working. Sam can't even watch the way he usually would, his eyes closing against his will from the assault of pleasure. “You're way too good at this.” When Steve releases him, Sam's eyes fly open as he lets out an almost whine. “Come on!”

The way Steve looks at him make Sam feel like Steve is about to eat him alive. “I know most people have a hard time believing it,” Steve drops his voice to a whisper, “But gay sex existed _before_ the twenty-first century.” 

Sam's laugh get lost in a groan as he watches Steve sucking on one of his own fingers. “You're gonna kill me.” 

“Isn't it the best way to go?”

Sam laughs again. He loves when sex can be both intense and fun, when it's just another way to connect to someone. More than anything, he loves how much they seem to be on the same page here. 

Then he doesn't think anymore when Steve sucks again, going as far as he can and making Sam jerk when he swallows around Sam's cock, when he pushes a finger behind Sam's balls and holds it there, slowly massaging Sam's hole, a perfect tease of what this could be. 

Sam keeps his eyes closed in a desperate attempt to delay his orgasm, to make this last longer, but Steve doesn't let him. He sucks harder, tongue teasing on the underside of Sam's cock, with just the right mix of skill and enthusiasm for it to be a constant reminder that Steve is really, really far from a blushing virgin. 

When Sam finally dares to open his eyes and sees how much Steve seems to be enjoying himself, how he looks with Sam's cock in his mouth like it's the best feeling in the world, he's gone. His balls draw closer to his body, his back arches and he comes, deep into Steve's mouth. 

Later, when they're lying in each other's arms and slowly catching their breath, Steve says, “You know, I was serious earlier.”

It takes Sam a couple of seconds to realize that his distraction technique didn't completely work. “About?”

With gentle fingers under Sam's chin, Steve makes sure Sam's whole attention is on him. “I know I have my own issues. That doesn't mean I can't be there for you if you need me. Don't try to fight your ghosts alone. You don't have to.” 

Sam's almost left speechless. “I'll remember that. I guess I'm used to being the caretaker, not the other way around.”

“It goes both ways,” Steve says with a small shrug. “With us both taking care of each other. That's why it's called being partners.” He suddenly sounds unsure. “That's... that's the word, right?” 

Steve's hesitation makes Sam smiles. Even though Steve doesn't get all the references, and keeps that list of his for when people recommend him things, most of the time he can make people forget that he was born over ninety years ago. 

Sam finds it adorable when Steve trips over little details like this one. But he'd never admit it. “It's one of the words for our kind of relationship, yes.” 

“I like it.” Steve's smile is soft enough to make Sam melt. “It says what it means to say. That we're in this together.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you can be incredibly cheesy?” Sam keeps his tone light and teasing. He knows what Steve means. 

“Sometimes, yeah.” Steve presses a soft kiss to Sam's lips. “Just because it's cheesy doesn't make it any less true.” 

“You have a point.” 

Later that night, when Sam wakes up far too early and can't fall asleep again, he watches Steve sleep. And he thinks that, whatever it is that's slowly growing between the two of them, it's worth holding onto it with everything he has.


End file.
